


something to be feared

by Pomfry



Category: Batman (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Dark, Dark Romance, M/M, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Murder, Personification, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 11:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13612728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pomfry/pseuds/Pomfry
Summary: It's like hell, here. He's chained to this body, trapped behind flesh and bone, but his soul is something different. It's snarling and dripping with malice and hatred, ready to tear into someone with claws.





	something to be feared

**Author's Note:**

> Dark shit from me today! Mwahaha.
> 
> Edit: my friend zara inspired this with her comment of " He's just death and destruction incarnate" about Damian. I just wrote more on it!

Damian stands as a city burns and the fire is reflecting in his eyes. His heart is black and destruction is beating in time with his heart.

 _Thump-thump-thump._  
  
He perches on a rooftop, breathing in the smoke and the screams of the damned echo in his head. The death in his veins counts the souls passing on. One, two, five, ten. A hundred.  
  
Damian tilts his head back, staring at the stars. It's like hell, here. He's chained to this body, trapped behind flesh and bone, but his soul is something different. It's snarling and dripping with malice and hatred, ready to tear into someone with claws.  
  
Another scream dies out.  
  
Does he count as a mass murderer, Damian wonders idly, looking down to see a man collapse on the ground, his daughter sobbing beside him.  
  
His lips tug into a grin. Damian dances on the precipice, laughing and spinning on the line between mortal and personification. Even being cast out isn't enough to take that away from him.  
  
Laughter bubbles up from inside his chest, and he throws his arms open, something in his chest soothed at the suffering below. He set a city on fire because he wanted to, set it aflame because he wished to be awash with pain.  
  
It's been centuries since he was cast from the heavens, as dark and twisted as he was, and he's lived countless lives since then. He's been a slave, a wife, a lawyer, and a criminal. It fits that he's the son of the most deadly assassin and the Batman.  
  
Blood paints his hands and taints his soul even more, and it makes him grin. Maybe one day he'll regret it. Maybe one day he'll feel remorse for what he has done. But not today.  
  
A mass murderer _and_ a serial killer, he decides, watching as a woman slams another's head into a wall, her inner insanity let loose by the chaos around her. Humans are so like him at times. It's refreshing, really, to see how ruthless they are. The league, the place he had grown up, in is a fine example.  
  
When he was living with Talia, he had bathed in the blood of his victims with giggles more suited to those in Arkham. Red had stained his hair and clothes and dried on his skin; he grew up with the taste of copper on his tongue and he loves it.  
  
He took his first life in this body when he was three. Far too old for him. He's been ready to kill since he was born.  
  
When he was sent to Gotham they wanted him to be a good little boy and stop playing with knives and start saving people.  
  
Damian had simply started killing under different methods, blunt force instead of precision, clumsy hits to steady slices with a blade. He's death and destruction and fear and hatred rolled up into one boy and they wanted him to _stop._  
  
Damian laughs at the past now, his cape draping off the corner of the building. As if he could stop. As if he _would._  
  
"Damian," breathes a voice behind him, so achingly familiar, and Damian stuffs his grin deep down inside as he turns to face his friend.  
  
"Jon," he returns, a buzzing beneath his skin that has everything to do with what is happening below and nothing to do with the way Jon is looking at him. He feels _alive_ for the first time in forever, and he slaps a hand over his mouth to halt his giggles.  
  
It's been years since he's dared to do something of his magnitude, of this scale. Lifetimes since he dared set a town on fire, since he dared to dance among the flames without a care.  
  
Longer still that someone caught him.  
  
Jon's face collapses into a beautiful art piece of tragedy and confusion. Damian watches gleefully, greedily taking in the sight of it. Jon is a pure soul, one blessed by his brethren way back when they still cared about the mortals. He's a old soul, one that's been cycled through so many bodies yet still he retains that halo of innocence.  
  
"Damian," Jon says, gorgeously wretched, his brows pulled together above his burning blue eyes, "why...what are you doing?"  
  
That grin tugs at Damian's lips and he doesn't even try to deny it. It pulls and grows wider and wider and Damian _laughs._  
  
"Me?" He wheezes out a chuckle, waving an arm at the carnage below, the fire lighting up his face. "I'm burning a city down!"  
  
Jon takes a step towards him, so utterly perplexed it's _hilarious._ "But why? People are getting hurt!" The last words are shouted, his soul screaming at the pain happening around him, an island of calm and empathy in a sea of darkness.  
  
"That's the point," Damian cackles, leaping into the edge, arms out to the sides and waving madly. "I'm death and destruction, Jonny boy! I revel in agony and laugh at danger." Damian turns dark eyes on his friend, madness from so many lives before in them. "It's my purpose."  
  
Jon closes his eyes, clenching his fists. Jon could break him, Damian knows. Could snap him in half with a twitch of his finger and the beauty of it is that he also knows Jon can't bring himself to harm him. Damian's marked Jon as his, has laid a brand on him so resolute it will stay throughout the ages. Jon's _his,_ the same way he's Jon's.  
  
Damian cartwheels off the building, falling towards the flames with laughter filling the air around him, and then Jon's there, catching him in his arms and carrying him back up just like Damian knew he would. He's trained Jon so well, he thinks fondly as Jon lands on the same rooftop. Their feet touch the ground and Damian leans forward, his grin rivaling the Joker.  
  
"What are you gonna do," he whispers. "What are you gonna do to stop me?"  
  
Jon doesn't answer. Damian smirks and tilts his head, fitting his mouth to Jon's as naturally as if they were made for each other.  
  
Jon stiffens but Damian kisses like its a fight to be won, like a battle. He was once a child soldier and a sacrifice for the rain to come in a rainforest. He _knows_ fights, knows how to kiss like it's something to kill for. He bites Jon's lips and licks up the blood and he _fights_ like he has always known how to do.  
  
Jon's weak kneed when Damian pulls away. A lazy smirk is on his lips as he looks at his friend, eyes lidded. "What do you say, Jon? Be my one and only?"  
  
There's no reply but there doesn't need to be.  
  
Damian's heart beats, _thump-thump-thump,_ and he smiles darkly, as poisonous as he was when he was thrown aside all those years ago, and disappears, leaving a destroyed city behind him with burnt corpses littering the streets.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always loved and brighten up my day and are saved in my Gmail.
> 
> Also! Here's my [Tumblr.](http://nikescaret.tumblr.com) Come visit and chat with me if you want!


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